


Boldly

by alacruxe



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Getting Together, Language of Flowers, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Crimson Flower, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alacruxe/pseuds/alacruxe
Summary: Now that everything in Adrestia is more or less stable for the time being, Hubert and Ferdinand have a chance to decide what they are to one another. Hubert makes the first move.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 11
Kudos: 107





	Boldly

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read on its own, or as a prequel to [Portraits Incomplete](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100298).

Hubert was happy, even _relieved_ that they were finally taking things to this level, but that didn't make him feel like any less of a fool for initiating it the way he did. He'd requested the whole affair via letter, of all things, much like a secret admirer, or a lesser nobleman requesting a king's permission to court his daughter. Of course, he regretted his folly the moment the messenger left his chambers, and he had to bury his face in his hands and try to shake away the humiliation. He couldn't.

It reminded him of all the aborted confessions he'd attempted during the war—all those days he'd woken up finally feeling the nerve to confront Ferdinand about his changing emotions and the ways they puzzled him. In most cases, he'd give up long before he even attempted to speak but a word; in others, he'd end up fumbling his recitation of a spell as he dived in to assist Ferdinand in battle, or he'd make some half-muttered compliment during a meeting in the war room. In every case, he embarrassed himself.

He hated it. He hated the lack of control he felt over these damnable _feelings_. Hubert had never been in denial of his attraction to Lady Edelgard, after all. Not like this.

In regard to the matter of his Emperor, he'd simply diminished the importance of his feelings, knowing all too well that the two of them, as people of their stations, could never become anything meaningful. Truly, even, Hubert was fully content to merely serve in his role as her advisor and adjutant, never wishing to overstep his bounds, nor blur lines that were defined by necessity.

In the case of Ferdinand, well...

As far as Hubert knew, there was nothing unusual in the idea of two nobles of their respective houses becoming romantically involved. There was precedent for it within the Empire's history, even. True, Houses Vestra and Aegir in particular had never enjoyed any mingling—at least not as far as Hubert was aware—but there were records of multiple dalliances between Houses Bergliez and Hevring, for instance, and a third son of Vestra had once wedded a second daughter of Varley. In fact, hadn't _Ferdinand_ said something about his family trying to marry him into House Varley?

So, who was to say that this generation's noble scions of Vestra and Aegir could not start a new precedent all their own?

Well, there was the matter of heirs, Hubert supposed. But Lady Edelgard, keen as she was on dissolving the nobility, would doubtless care very little if the noble line of Vestra ended with Hubert. For that matter, Hubert himself was perfectly content to abandon his father's legacy. He could only hope Ferdinand was of a similar mind.

Their bond had grown undeniably strong in the past year or so. Near the end of the war, after Hubert had finally managed to deliver his confession, they would regularly meet in private to share gifts and bits of polite conversation, and Ferdinand would smile and blush and every now and again he would lay his hand over Hubert's or touch his shoulder, and Hubert only fell more deeply in love every time. They'd never exchanged those exact words, never made any grander plans, never even kissed—although Hubert was certain there were multiple instances when they very nearly had—but Hubert was sure that he knew Ferdinand's heart. He was sure that Ferdinand loved him.

Why, then, was he so flustered over something so simple as sending a dinner invitation? Why, even, was he so distraught to find a matching letter, a _flower-perfumed_ letter no less, on his desk the next morning?

Hubert felt like this was something he should have been prepared for. He'd been preparing for it for _moons_ , after all.

Nevertheless, every day leading up to the occasion saw him in jitters. He made terrible misspellings in his records, he jumped whenever Lady Edelgard addressed him, and his heart skipped a beat whenever he heard a voice of similar timbre to Ferdinand's or caught sight of someone with a close-enough hair color. Was it possible to fall more deeply in love with someone just by thinking about them? If so, Hubert believed he may very well have fallen victim to that very thing. 

He delayed preparations for the meeting not by choice, but out of necessity. There were assassinations to arrange, poisons to concoct, and interrogations to administer all throughout the week, leaving Hubert very little opportunity to do anything as frivolous as arranging outfits or ordering very specific bouquets.

Of course, procrastinating on all of those tasks only made them more nerve-racking when the time arrived to complete them. Still, with Hubert's level of organizational expertise, putting everything together was not, in the end, all that troublesome of a process. The date was set, the location secured, and all of the props were in order; Hubert von Vestra officially had a date with Ferdinand von Aegir.

~

Located within Enbarr's entertainment district, not far from the Mittelfrank Opera House, Boutique Flamberge stood out as an extravagant oddity. Its proprietress, Madame Henri, was something of an eccentric herself. What was presently her restaurant had once been an artisan smithy, her very pride and joy. She crafted some of the most beautiful swords in all the land, moulded of gemstone or glass, adorned with the finest of filigree. Unfortunately, they were utterly worthless in battle, serving as little more than fancy props or, at best, perversely expensive heirlooms. When war erupted and conscripted knights sought only functional blades, business began to dwindle, and Madame Henri was forced to abandon her craft in pursuit of profit. Thusly did she trade her forges for stoves, her bellows and tongs for pots and ladles, and her precious ores for prized ingredients.

The interior of the building still retained some of the same decorations it had sported in its days as a smith shop, with blown glass lilies and roses hung from the ceiling and bejeweled blades adorning the walls. Mahogany tables and velvet-cushioned benches now filled the floor space, however, allowing guests to the venue plenty of places to sit to enjoy their meals. Perhaps the most obvious change was the gutting of the forge and the addition of a kitchen, complete with a hired staff of professional chefs. Hubert had to wonder if any of them had come from Garreg Mach, seeking employment in the imperial capital after being forced to flee.

He'd chosen the venue for symbolic reasons, which may have been him waxing more sentimental than usual, but that was sort of the point. He and Ferdinand had changed in war, abandoning frivolity for function and, in the process, growing to respect each other's strengths. In a sense, the transformation of their relationship very much resembled Madame Henri's change of profession.

"Ah, Hubert!" Madame Henri crowed in delight as Hubert stepped up to the entry counter. Little glass chimes tinkled pleasantly as they rotated through the air to either side of him. Their beautiful sculpted blossoms of red and gold mirrored the pair of earrings dangling at the sides of Madame Henri's face. The rest of her outfit, in fact, matched them both, from the crimson glass petals adorning her neckline to the frilled flower-like gown itself.

"Bold of you to address me so informally, Madame," Hubert mused, no real presence of threat in his voice. After all, noble status meant little in this new Adrestia they were building.

Madame Henri only chuckled, hiding her mouth modestly behind a brocade fan. "It is how your name was listed in the reservation, my dear," she lilted in her upbeat accent, one whose region Hubert had never quite been able to place. "Now, please, follow me. I'll take you to your seat."

The portly proprietress gave an exaggerated bow and led Hubert on through the restaurant until they reached the promised place: a booth at the far side of the building, nice and secluded, away from both the windows and the kitchen, where things were most quiet and private. Hubert's requested flowers—one dozen orange roses, two light pink peonies, and a single spray of white daisies—were placed just right at the table's center in a custom-crafted red glass vase. A bottle of fine vintage wine of the same color sat beside it, complete with two glasses and a corkscrew.

It was everything Hubert could have asked for and more. Now he just had to hope he didn't screw up everything else.

"Thank you once more, Madame," Hubert said, bowing politely with his hand over his heart. The proprietress only giggled and dismissively waved her fan.

"No trouble at all, my dear," Madame Henri trilled, moving to return to her counter. "Good luck with your sweetheart!"

That left Hubert by himself again, alone and dwarfed by the room. He'd come early just in case, wanting to make sure he was seated and already waiting at the table when Ferdinand arrived, but he had to wonder if he'd just been a little _too_ early. It was easy to feel silly like this, all dressed up in his finery at a table covered in nothing but roses and wine. Never in his youth would Hubert have imagined himself in this situation, especially not with Ferdinand involved in any positive capacity; yet here he was, preparing a second romantic confession, and this time with a proposal of sorts. It was ridiculous.

Thankfully he didn't have to stay alone with his thoughts for very long. Another jingling of chimes signaled Ferdinand's arrival, and Hubert couldn't help sitting up a bit in his seat to have a look at the entryway.

It seemed Ferdinand had gone all out for this, too. His hair was delicately braided in a sort of pattern Hubert had never seen before, and it draped over his shoulder with impressive reach, tied off at the end in a loose black ribbon. From where he was sitting, it was difficult to really get a look at the man's bottom half, but it wasn't hard to at least see that he was wearing quite the fetching black-and-silver waistcoat and a red bell-sleeved jacket with a mess of ruffles starting at the elbow and extending all the way past his wrists. At least Hubert didn't have to feel overdressed anymore.

Then again, maybe the cape had been a bit much.

Hubert quickly resumed his normal seated posture once it became apparent that Ferdinand was walking his way. He occupied his attention with a menu—or at least pretended to—until he caught sight of booted feet approaching his periphery. "Good to see you've arrived on time," Hubert said, unable to help a little smile as Ferdinand took his seat at the opposite side of the table.

When Hubert set down his menu to really get a better look at his dining partner, though, he found it difficult to maintain any airs of disinterest. Ferdinand really did look incredible, from his meticulously-plaited mane to the pearl-coated spurs at his ankles.

"A noble never keeps his companion waiting," Ferdinand answered with a charming grin. Hubert felt the room grow warmer, as though Ferdinand had somehow just shone a sunbeam straight at his side of the bench. Oh, he was utterly doomed.

"I'm sure you've already noticed," Hubert continued, reciting straight from his mental script, "but I've brought a few gifts for you. I'm afraid I never did learn your preference for flowers, but..."

Ferdinand apparently only just noticed the flowers, because his face totally lit up the moment he looked at them. "Oh, Hubert!" he cried, delightedly clapping his hands together once. "These are wonderful, thank you! I did not think you the sort of man to know the language of flowers."

Hubert blinked. Ferdinand noticed and his face turned peony pink.

"Erm, that is, well..." He cleared his throat and somehow managed to pull himself together. Hubert was still getting there himself. "Flower language is a kind of shorthand. A way of communicating emotional messages through flower arrangements. Some messages can be as complex as a full sentence, such as 'I miss you and my heart has yearned for your tender affection since the day we parted.' Others are as simple as 'love, chastity, permanence.' I, um...take it you were not thinking of any specific message when you chose these."

Hubert suddenly felt guilty, and he hadn't even done anything wrong. In fact, he hadn't even known what he'd done at all, and he was now dreading the hidden meaning of his chosen bouquet. "I...see. My apologies. You are correct. I hadn't quite put that level of thought into these. I simply chose the flowers I believed would, ah...suit you."

Ferdinand was blushing again, his smile only growing all the wider. "Well," he said, "I believe you chose quite well. Would you like to know what they mean?" At Hubert's nod, Ferdinand eagerly continued. "Well, yellow roses symbolize friendship, while red symbolize love. Orange, as a hybrid of the two, can mean, ah, l-love blossoming forth from friendship."

Hubert felt the room drop out from underneath him. Ferdinand did not stop talking.

"It can also mean passion, desire...attraction." Ferdinand cleared his throat. "Twelve roses in particular mean...well, a confession of love." A pause. "P-peonies, on the other hand...well, pink peonies in particular can mean shyness, or spiritual healing, or love at f...first sight." Another pause, which was probably for the best, because Hubert felt just about ready to faint. "D-daisies, um, w-well, daisies can also symbolize spiritual healing, or...innocence, beauty, purity..."

Ferdinand trailed off, leaving Hubert to simply sit and contemplate what all of this meant. In the end, the message was clear: "My passion for you exceeds friendship," he said, voice slightly tremulous. "While I do still find myself hesitating to take things further, I...wish to ask your permission to deepen this relationship of ours."

"Hubert..." Ferdinand practically _glowed_ as his smile spread wider across his beautiful face. He leaned closer across the table, reached out, took Hubert's face in his hands—and with a tender caress of his cheek and stroke of his hair, he guided Hubert into a gentle kiss, a soft, tender press of the lips that felt so unbelievably warm and sweet that Hubert didn't even know what to do with himself.

"I love you, too," Ferdinand murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he slowly pulled away, gloved fingers still stroking the side of his face.

Hubert could have _cried_.

~

The rest of their dinner went by normally, the two of them easily settling into their usual habits of playful banter and sharing of news. Hubert didn't uncork the wine until they were mostly finished with their meal, not out of any consideration for taste or potential drunkenness, but because it was so easy to lose track of things when their conversations really started moving. He regretted not pouring them both a glass while they were still enjoying their sautéed pheasant, but the pairing probably wasn't ideal anyway.

They at least had a chance to enjoy one full glass each before it was time to pay up and leave. Ferdinand was sporting a definite dusting of pink after just one glass, too, so perhaps it was wise that they'd waited.

"Here," Hubert said as he stood from his seat and offered his hand. Ferdinand took it with a giddy smile, pitching forward a bit farther than he probably meant to as he pulled himself up in front of Hubert. Hubert easily caught him, thankfully enough. "And there we are. Shall we be going, then?" 

Ferdinand nodded, disengaging from Hubert's hold to fumble about for his coinpurse. Hubert had already left full payment on the table, but he wouldn't begrudge Ferdinand his kindness. Besides, he looked so happy to be leaving the little gold coins there. He probably thought it was some sort of "noble duty" of his, if Hubert had to guess. He wasn't about to pry, regardless. They had somewhere to be.

"I can carry the flowers," Ferdinand volunteered, scooping the vase up gingerly and taking a moment to enjoy the floral fragrance right under his nose.

"Just take care not to drop that vase," Hubert chided, taking the bottle of wine in one hand and holding one of Ferdinand's with the other. "Madame Henri would not be terribly pleased to find one of her finest works shattered into pieces on the floor."

"I believe you will keep me steady enough to avoid such perils," Ferdinand said with a chuckle. He really did seem rather tipsy after only one glass. Either Ferdinand was a remarkable lightweight, or the wine was especially potent and Hubert was just highly resistant to intoxicants. Actually, it was probably that. 

At any rate, they managed to make it back to the Vestra estate without dropping anything, despite a few scares here and there. By the time they were at the doors, Ferdinand had already had some time to sober up, and he was definitely less wobbly, though the intermittent giggles certainly remained. Hubert only had to wrestle with the doors for a brief moment before they were through, and he immediately set them on a course for his bedchambers.

Ferdinand's eyes were wandering the whole way, almost as though he were looking for something. Hubert could guess what that was. "Surprised to see a lack of servants about?"

"Indeed," Ferdinand said, turning his gaze toward Hubert and hugging his vase of flowers close to his chest. "I first noticed it when we arrived."

"I either killed or dismissed all of the people in my father's former employ when I first took over House Vestra. It only seemed natural. The fewer the people who knew of any immediate goings-on within our house's territory, the fewer the people who could betray me." Hubert shrugged a shoulder as they walked. "I continue to keep messengers, of course, and my contacts among those who slither in the dark are all people whom I trust deeply. With regard to House Vestra's property, however...well, a singular groundskeeper suffices."

Ferdinand looked surprised, but not really shocked or horrified. It was more of a 'wow, you must truly have your affairs well in order' look than an 'I am now fearing for my life after hearing of your familial mutiny' look. "Only _one?_ I would not have guessed, Hubert. Your property appears quite well-maintained."

"I keep him busy," Hubert answered with a smirk. "Not to worry, though. I assure you he is paid well." Ferdinand didn't appear to be objecting, which was good. A few years ago, he'd be looking for any excuse possible to critique Hubert's treatment of those who worked beneath him. Things between them truly had changed, and entirely for the better.

They arrived promptly at Hubert's bedroom, and he eased the door open, a quick spell immediately lighting the magicked sconces lining the walls. It was decorated simply, with a bed and wardrobe and study, everything in dark wood. Delicate silver drapes covered the singular window, and a duvet of matching design lay draped over silken black bedsheets. A black and purple patterned rug sat slightly askew on the floor, disguising a trap door beneath it, one that led down a spiraling staircase to the basement. Not that Ferdinand had to know that precise detail. Hopefully he never would.

"This is lovely," Ferdinand said as he looked around, presently admiring the embroidery on the curtains. Hubert took the opportunity to lock the door and then set about removing his boots. He'd opted for a plain pair that day, just simple black leather, no fancy trim. Needless to say Ferdinand's ostentatious spurs had left him feeling naked by comparison.

"It suffices." Hubert lifted his cape from his shoulders and propped it up on a little rack near the wardrobe. Ferdinand still seemed rather distracted. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

When Ferdinand finally looked back his way, he didn't seem too bothered by Hubert shedding layers of clothing. If anything, his posture seemed to loosen, like the sight only made him feel more at ease. How intriguing. Hubert would have expected him to have grown much more flustered. "You know that you can set that vase down," he suggested, unable to help a bemused grin. "It's not necessary for you to continue to hold it in your arms. There are available surfaces on which it may rest."

Ferdinand only just now seemed to notice that he was still carrying his flowers. Still a little tipsy, then. With a sheepish little laugh, he brought the vase over to a chest of drawers and set it delicately down on top. "Of course, yes. My apologies. I became so enchanted with your unique décor that I simply could not help but explore for a moment."

Ferdinand truly was such a charming idiot. Hubert shook his head with a hopeless snicker. "You may continue to explore as you please. I'll be changing out of this while you do."

As he pulled his overcoat from his arms, sleeve by sleeve, Hubert couldn't help but notice Ferdinand's lingering gaze. Even from the corner of his eye, it wasn't hard to spot it. "You're likewise free to undress as much as you wish," Hubert offered, keeping his tone carefully neutral. He did have to consider the fact that Ferdinand was still working out the wine in his system. With his judgment impaired as such, Hubert ran the risk of pushing the man into something he'd regret tomorrow, and that was far from his intention.

If anything, Hubert only wanted to continue what they'd started earlier in the evening. Their first kiss had been incredible, truly, but Hubert wanted so much more. He wanted to kiss Ferdinand and stroke his hair, and explore his body, find each of his pressure points and toy with them just enough to tease. He wanted to see what Ferdinand looked like naked, wanted to trace all his battle scars, to discover just where he liked to be touched or tickled or kissed. They had a lot of catching up to do, with so many of their years having been wasted on petty arguments.

It looked as though Ferdinand shared at least some of those same sentiments, judging by how easily and naturally he shifted to removing his clothes. He took a comfortable perch at the edge of Hubert's bed and began unlacing his boots, shrugging out of his sleeves, unbuckling his belt. Now, it was Hubert's turn to be entranced. "I must admit," Ferdinand said, "I did not expect our night to end this way. To be invited to your bedchambers, I mean. I do not mean to misread your intentions, of course, but—"

Hubert cleared his throat. "My intentions are pure, I assure you. I have no desire to pressure you into anything you're unready to do together."

Ferdinand appeared to deflate. If Hubert didn't know better, he'd think that was disappointment he was seeing on Ferdinand's face. "Oh," he said. "I see." Actually, maybe he really was disappointed after all.

"Were you _hoping_ I would pressure you?" Hubert raised a thin brow as he hanged his jacket on a prong beside his cape, leaving him in a loose white blouse and black trousers. Very comfortable, actually. He would probably stay at this level of undress, unless Ferdinand objected for some reason. "I'm aware that I act viciously against our foes, Ferdinand, but believe me when I say that I have no desire to assault you."

"It is not that I expect it of you, or even that I am asking it of you," Ferdinand retorted, his face turning serious. Hubert didn't want to assume the man was sober, but he definitely wasn't swaying or giggling the same way he had been an hour ago. "I suppose I just hoped that I would not have to beg and plead for you to touch me. You should know by now that I...that I want you."

Hubert was still pensive about the whole matter. If Ferdinand even had the slightest cognitive impairment from the wine, the chance remained that he was not acting fully of his own volition. The idea that he might have any regrets in the morning, that he might push Hubert away out of fear or shame...Hubert simply could not bear it.

He felt the same way he had that morning he'd brought Ferdinand his tea. The morning of his first confession. He was always a cautious person, never leaving anything to chance, always planning ten steps ahead, even in matters of the heart. This particular matter was no exception.

"I don't want you to regret this," Hubert sighed, finally moving to take his seat beside Ferdinand on the edge of the bed. He laid his hand tentatively over Ferdinand's—and when Ferdinand turned his palm over to lace their fingers together, Hubert felt his cheeks turn warm and his heart kick at his breastbone.

"I could not possibly," Ferdinand murmured, leaning in for a kiss, the second one that night. Ferdinand's eyelashes ticklishly dusted Hubert's cheeks as he pulled away. "I have wanted you like this since the day we first shared our feelings, Hubert. Please do not hold yourself back. I fear I cannot wait any longer."

Hubert did not fail to catch the hitch in Ferdinand's breath on that last statement, nor the subtle shift in his posture. It made him want to jump his bones, to be frank. "Then I will give you everything you desire," Hubert said, the words husked against Ferdinand's lips as they both leaned in for another kiss.

This time, their lips lingered. Ferdinand opened his mouth, wordlessly coaxing Hubert inward, practically begging him to invade and take what he pleased. Hubert, of course, was still just figuring everything out, but at least he'd read a book or two in his lifetime. Tentative, shy, he slipped his tongue through into Ferdinand's mouth. It was a weird feeling, having his tongue inside someone's mouth, even if the taste wasn't all that different considering their shared dinner. What was strange was how weirdly small it felt, and how easily he bumped up against teeth. Strangest of all, of course, was the feeling of Ferdinand's tongue sliding up over his own, and the tingle that shot up his spine at the sensation. It made him feel weirdly weak, like his control was slipping.

Ferdinand seemed to catch on to that, because he was soon taking control. Clutching either side of Hubert's collar like the foul knave he was, Ferdinand leaned back into the bed and pulled Hubert with him, forcing himself to be pinned, with Hubert's arms on either side of Ferdinand's head to hold himself up. The bastard really was determined to make Hubert take the lead, wasn't he? Now that was just lazy.

Hubert pulled back from a kiss with a grunt as he adjusted his posture, fencing in Ferdinand's hips with a knee on either side. The way he was straddling the man wasn't all that unlike riding a horse, actually, which was probably fitting considering how much Ferdinand styled himself an equestrian. "Keen to let me take charge, are you?" Hubert mused, reaching down with gloved fingers to pry at each little button on Ferdinand's shirt. They came loose one by one, slowly exposing the well-toned chest and abdominal muscle underneath. Ferdinand shivered beneath Hubert's hands with a growing grin, very clearly enjoying the attention. "Or perhaps _keen to make me do all the work_ is more accurate."

"You wound me." Ferdinand hummed in contentment and shrugged out of his shirt sleeves, letting the garment fall to the floor with all the rest. Hubert was not loving the accumulating mess, but he'd take care of it later. "I fully intend to repay all of your attentions. You know better than anyone that I refuse to be outdone."

"Mm," Hubert said. "Quite."

Ferdinand's only reply was a sharp gasp of a moan as Hubert rather unceremoniously pinched one of his nipples. It was rather charming how eagerly he arched into it, too, clearly craving the sensation despite how tender he was. Hubert was fully prepared to reward that kind of shamelessness.

He continued to toy with both nipples, pinching and pulling in a rhythmic pattern that he mirrored on either side. Ferdinand's reactions were satisfying, too, between his pretty little gasps and the way his body writhed against the mattress. This wasn't what Hubert was here for, however, and he wasn't about to let himself get too carried away with just teasing. He had other plans for what he wanted to do to Ferdinand.

"Ah...hm...?" Ferdinand paused in his obscene movements and noises as Hubert took his hands away. A shame, because Hubert would have been content to continue watching and listening to them.

"Patience," he said, shrugging out of his own shirt and finally taking off his gloves. Ferdinand was watching intently, gaze very closely following Hubert's bare hands. It wasn't hard to see that he wanted more. "I'll give you the attention you crave in just a moment. But I believe we both have some clothing to shed before we continue."

Ferdinand blinked away the haze that had accumulated in his eyes, and he nodded firmly. "Right," he said, reaching down to tug at his trousers. There was nothing elegant about the way he was stripping, but Hubert still couldn't help but watch with interest. His skin had such an interesting _warmth_ to it, even under layers where a tan couldn't reach. Hubert's hands curiously wandered, fingers trailing over hips and thighs, following after Ferdinand's as they slid down to ease his clothing away.

The best surprise was, of course, Ferdinand's cock, now fully exposed between his legs. He had a good length to him, balanced well to his body's proportions. With how hard he was already, the slight upper curve was readily apparent, along with the delicate pink color of his tip, still slightly covered by a loose foreskin. Hubert couldn't resist reaching out to touch, to feel what it was like to grasp a penis from this angle.

Not all that different, as it happened.

"How bold," Ferdinand purred, thrusting shamelessly up into Hubert's hand, his eyes fluttering shut and his grin spreading wide. "I take it you approve of what you see, then?"

"You could say I'm not disappointed," Hubert slyly retorted, giving Ferdinand's cock a rather firm squeeze that had him jumping in surprise.

"I will be disappointed in _you_ , Hubert, if you refuse to remove your clothing." Ferdinand was leveling a proper glare at him. Fair enough. Hubert deserved the criticism.

"You have had every opportunity to do it yourself," he retorted nonetheless, flashing a brief grin before he brought his hands back to himself to finish the job.

Hubert could still feel the weight of Ferdinand's gaze as he shucked his last remaining vestiges of modesty. He never really liked being the center of attention in general, but in a situation like this, it felt especially stifling. He'd never shown himself to anyone like this before, and that kind of vulnerability never felt very good. Thankfully, Ferdinand didn't seem repulsed or disappointed or anything of the sort; rather, he was quickly reaching out to take Hubert in hand, to stroke him, to appraise him by touch.

"There is no need to be so shy, Hubert," Ferdinand murmured, flashing a comforting smile as his fingers worked Hubert's shaft delicately up and down. It was a strange feeling, having those sensations administered to him rather than administering them himself, and Hubert didn't necessarily like the loss of control that came with it; he did, however, very much like Ferdinand, and he liked the way Ferdinand touched him, so careful and reverent, taking care to commit each reaction to memory. To be sure, that was one of Ferdinand's best qualities: his enthusiasm for becoming the very best at whatever task he set his mind to.

"You do have a way with those hands of yours." Hubert felt his eyes flutter shut as he just focused on feeling, on letting Ferdinand take care of him. It seemed Ferdinand had already memorized exactly where he liked to be touched, from the cluster of veins on his left side to the oversensitive flesh at the crest of his glans. A shame Ferdinand didn't yet seem to have the confidence to kiss him there. Hubert would have liked to feel him put his mouth to good use. Perhaps another time.

For the moment, the both of them had a lot of learning to do. Hubert had never asked the question before, but the answer was obvious now: Ferdinand was a virgin, meaning they were both completely inexperienced with a partner. They had a long night ahead of them.

While Hubert was enjoying Ferdinand's strokes and caresses, he wanted more. "I'd like to try something, if I may," he said, reaching down to curl his fingers around Ferdinand's, pulling them gently away. Ferdinand looked up at him, curious, his eyes shining beautifully with questions unspoken. "Please, allow me to guide you."

Ferdinand nodded, although he appeared a bit confused. That confusion quickly turned to realization and then even neediness as Hubert drew himself deeper into Ferdinand's lap and reached down to engulf both their shafts in his hand. Why stroke each other separately when they could do it like this, together? The pressure really did feel _so_ good, too, and immediately so. Already stiff and sensate from the previous stroking, Hubert's cock responded immediately to touch, twitching with pleasure and beading with moisture at the tip. With Ferdinand pressed so tight together with him, too, it wasn't hard to see that he was in much the same situation himself.

"G-good," Ferdinand gasped, tossing his head against the pillows and pushing up into Hubert's hand. The motion rubbed their cocks together in a way Hubert couldn't describe. One would have thought the friction might be unpleasant—or, at least, _Hubert_ might have—but something about the way their undersides pushed together, the way their tips glided over one another's, was making Hubert's toes curl tight and his teeth long to bite. He fulfilled that temptation wordlessly, leaning down to capture Ferdinand's lips in his own, to bite and tug and make sure Ferdinand felt every echo of the intensity _he_ did.

It seemed it was working. Ferdinand's flesh was rising with goosebumps, his breath catching in his nose as Hubert forbade him from using his mouth for anything other than kissing. The constant stimulation, the constant pressure was getting to him, too, and he pointedly thrust forward, giving Ferdinand a dose of that same pleasure he felt.

Hubert wanted more, he wanted to take more of Ferdinand for himself, to penetrate him and fuck him and carve out a space for himself within Ferdinand that no one else would ever be able to fill—but this was their first night, and they didn't have all that they needed for that, and the ever-present fear of scaring Ferdinand away and facing cruel rejection held Hubert back from professing his intentions. In the morning, he reasoned, he could forward that proposal; for the moment, he was determined to bring both himself and Ferdinand to the release they desired and deserved.

"Are you close?" Hubert rasped, rolling his palm over their tips, getting his hand slick with precum. It made the mutual pumping and thrusting all the easier, which only drew Hubert closer and closer to his own sweet release. He could feel a tightening in his core, a tension in his thighs; Ferdinand could feel it too, no doubt.

"Nearly there," the man gasped, confirming Hubert's hopes. "Oh please, I...I cannot—"

Ferdinand let loose an anguished cry, and Hubert felt warmth shoot onto his fingers, signaling a perfect release. Ferdinand was _pulsing_ under his hand, coming hard, no doubt in the throes of absolute bliss—and it was that thought, not the sensation, that spurred Hubert toward his own climax. He bit his lip as he frantically thrust forward against Ferdinand, and he squeezed firmly with his hand as he jerked, wringing every drop of pleasure from the moment that he could.

It was over all too soon. Hubert caught himself on his elbow before he could fully collapse, and he hovered there above Ferdinand, pressed forehead to forehead, sharing gasping breaths. He absently wiped his dirtied hand against his thigh and reached out to tuck it under Ferdinand's shoulder, the better to hold him close.

It seemed Ferdinand was very much floating in his own head space, judging by the cloudy look in his eyes and the lazy grin on his lips. It looked good on him. "Well," Hubert said, finally breaking the silence, "I don't think that was all too terrible for a first time."

"No, not at all," Ferdinand breathlessly agreed, winding his arms tight around Hubert's back and cuddling him close. Hubert had been starting to get a little cold, so the body heat was comforting. "I want to do more together. So much more. But I fear that I may be a little too tired at the moment."

"We'll have the morning," Hubert reassured him, rolling over onto his side and pulling Ferdinand with him. There, much more comfortable. He could tuck his face into Ferdinand's shoulder like this, and that was a feeling he was finding he enjoyed very much.

"And many more." Hubert could feel Ferdinand's smile against his neck. "I fear that we may be kept apart for extended periods as long as the reconstruction of Adrestian society proceeds. Hopefully soon we can have a bit more time to ourselves. Time to share tea, time to share gifts…"

"Time to do things like this," Hubert suggested, combing his fingers loosely through Ferdinand's hair. True, his one hand was still a little messy, but they could bathe in the morning. "I want to explore you further. Perhaps even try some things others may consider scandalous."

Ferdinand, encouragingly, did not seem bothered at the prospect. In fact, the noise he made sounded more intrigued than disgusted. Good. "I look forward to it," he said, dragging his nails slowly down the nape of Hubert's neck. _Oh._ "For now, however, I propose we rest."

"A wise proposition, Duke Aegir," Hubert yawned, nuzzling against Ferdinand's cheek and pulling up the sheets around them. "I'll see you in the morning."

**Author's Note:**

> Once more thanking [rotrograde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrograde) for being a very encouraging beta and catching the mistakes I don't. Check their stuff out!


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